


Stayin' Alive

by starlinks



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Multi, Percabeth AU, Solangelo AU, Zombie AU, annabeth went to harvard in this because she's a legacy, her mom runs the qz... that's all i'm going to say, she met percy once upon a time in a summer camp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23607715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlinks/pseuds/starlinks
Summary: The end of the world was three years ago, but Annabeth Chase had been happy staying alive by herself, thank you very much. Then, one day, just as a zombie was about to bite her, she bit him and he turned back into a human. That changes things, she guessed.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 13
Kudos: 98





	1. Chapter 1

"Endure and survive"

~ _The Last of Us_

* * *

**Stayin' Alive**

**Part I**

It had been so many days and nights and nights and days - I should have kept a calendar of sorts, but that doesn't mean anything to anyone anymore. All I know it's that the third Spring is coming in a couple of months after a long, difficult winter. 

It was the third year after  _ Z. Coli _ managed to infect upwards of 95% of the population, rendering blood and flesh to gore and rot. The dead are demented versions of their former selves, but the living lives in shadows. What a life that is.

I sighed. At least I figured out a way to live. Minimal noise, self-sufficient. Some like to stay with the main group remaining in the North End, but I'm content staying in my school's library. I don't like to rely on others, and one mistake some stupid person makes can spell the end of me. I've watched  _ The Walking Dead _ , I know how that goes.

I have no heating (it's ok, I took all my deceased classmates' Canada Goose jackets and made forts) and I hate how horribly lonely it gets, but the labyrinth of books helps me find purpose sometimes. Whatever that means. I've spent a lot of days just laying amidst shelves and shelves hoping one of the Zombies would get me, but my wish was not granted. I want to live; every time a Z trips a wire, I just had to go and kill it. I can't let myself die.

At least it's Winter so it doesn't smell like shit all the time.

* * *

I hate it when I procrastinated so much I knew I had to do something.

I didn't learn. You see, 2 years ago, I was a college senior studying biology, and I would always wait until the absolute last minute to study or to complete my projects and assignments, citing some bullshit like  _ diamonds are made under pressure. _ It's dumb, but I always just had to wait till the last minute to stockpile on water and food.

Water's not that hard to come by during Winter: you just get a bucket and climb on top of the library (yup, I've taken control of my school's library - always thought the building was a monstrosity of pretentious brick wall and vines, but the security comes in handy now) and melt the snow. But food is tough. You have to make sure to find something uncontaminated. No more meat for me aside from packaged jerkies. Canned fruits and vegetables are rare treats, and most days, I munch on packages of biscuits and cans of soup. Since I waited so long, I had to get food today so I don't risk running out and having to scout in bad weather.

Some days I do wish that I stay in one of the colonies for the heat for my food, but that Puritan-like lifestyle is not for me. Not like I'm missing much anyway - the only other big thing going on for them is dairy, and I'm lactose intolerant.

So you see, I have to raid stores around for canned goods. It shouldn't be hard, but Cambridge is - used to be - full of rich people who liked fresh foods. I had to go down to Porter Square to grab the cans from Star Market. Rite Aid was closer but I already ate through what they still had. Not only am I a dumb ass I'm also a fat ass, obviously. Luke would agree.

* * *

What comes next is quite confusing.

I did what I usually come to do: I started once day breaks, and I wrapped my body in duct tape and a 15th-century chain-maille armour (courtesy of the history department, thanks) before putting on a bikers' helmet. I crawled out from my barricade in the basement with my backpack, checked the entrances for breaches, and left the library for my usual path down Mass Ave with my axe in hand.

I used to be an even dumber survivalist early on, but learned to avoid the entrances to the T subway now. Avoid dark areas where I can't see: got it.

When I finally made it down there, I picked up a rock with ease. Mustering all my strength, I chucked the rock to the far side of the Star Market, crouched down low, and waited.  _ One minute, two minutes... _ Nothing. Those motherfuckers are slow, but not that slow. I'm good.

I climbed on the side carefully, checked the tautness of the rope I strung before, and hopped in from the corner I dug. Pro tip: with these things, you want to keep the high ground. Don't use weapons that are noisy or a kickback you can't control. Observe carefully. Honestly, I'm not in the best physical shape, but I learned that you only need to think before you act to stay alive.

I scanned around. Looked all good. Great. So I then marched down to the canned foods section.  _ Canned peaches - nope, gotta save that for when it gets colder and I hate my life more, but I can treat myself to some canned pears. More Cheez-Its, god, I hate those things now. They’ll also give me a stomach ache. There's still a whole section of packaged candies, what if I-- _

"Holy Shit!!" I screamed. From on top of the shelf, a man - no, a Zombie, fell on top of me. Its shoe nailed me right in the eye, but that's not the worrisome part. Its face is dangerously close to my knee and my thigh, and it is inching closer to take a bite. I had some blocking layers on, but I knew it wouldn’t do that much in terms of protection. Oh my god, I didn’t want this to be the end of me, getting bitten because I wanted a god damned Hershey's bar is such a bad way to go.

Panicking, I bite into its ankle, the little bits of exposed skin above its sock. Why did I even do that? Did I think he would stop in pain? It has no nerve. Beyond tasting 2-year-old rotting flesh, I could have been infected from that transaction. Oh my god. I've been so careful, and all that effort has been wasted. What's going to happen to me?

I tried my best to shake it off and scurry back, but at that moment, I realized that it was no longer trying to bite me. It was coughing - as if it's taking in the air and had functional lungs! I'd never seen anything like this, and I wonder if I thought wrong: that this was actually a man, not a Zombie. But it couldn't be. It tried to bite me, I swear, and it has an eye dangling out of a socket and smells like a corpse.

But it kept coughing. It coughed and groaned, and as it looked at me in the eye, I picked up my axe to swing towards its head.

"Wait," it croaked. I stopped cold. "What is happening?" He blinked, and became alarmed when he saw the axe in my hand. Lady, what are you doing? What is happening? What happened to my eye? Holy f--"

I pointed the axe to his throat.

"First of all, shut up. Second of all, what the fuck?"

* * *

**A/N: I shouldn't be posting new AU stories, yet I am. FML.**

**Wonder if you caught all the references in this chapter. More importantly, interested to hear your thoughts! This is pretty different from what I usually write.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II**

“What is happening? I don’t understand. Where's Will?” He surveyed around with his brown (an no longer milky grey) eyes.

I tugged at my helmet to make sure it’s secure. Cautiously, I lowered my axe, and whispered: “Two years ago, there was a zombie apocalypse--”

“--I know that--”

“And I’m a survivor. I was salvaging for food today, and you fell off from that shelf. I didn’t want you to kill me, so I accidentally bit your ankle, and now you’re _talking_.” I said harshly. I didn’t appreciate the interruption.

He looked scared, confused. I can’t blame him; I feel sorry for him. Judging from his body’s decay, it couldn’t have been more than a couple of seasons. It’s dead winter, so he probably turned just a few months back. I’ll be damned to survive this long just to turn.

 _Shit._ I suddenly remember, _I bit him._ That means that I could turn. Get infected. _Fuck._ I swiped past him to look for some mouthwash. It probably won’t do anything, but at least I can say that I’ve tried.

“I was just trying to salvage some food.”

“Aren’t we all,” I commented. It was weird to talk to someone after being alone for so long.

“I need to go back to Gilead-”

“And get shot?” I scowled, realizing that he’s just another citizen living in the Colony. I wonder whose genius idea it was to name the Colony after that dystopian hellhole in _The Handmaid’s Tale._ The Colony is strict, but quite unlike what is depicted in the show; I know, because I binged the two seasons on Hulu during finals my senior year fall, right before the world had gone to shit. I heard there was going to be another season scheduled to come out that spring, but the apocalypse stopped before it gets to see the light of day.

I kept collecting cans, with my axe still in hand. I put the bag of cans down briefly just to gurgle some mouthwash and spat it out. So much better. At least it hasn’t reached its expiration date like some Campbell’s clearly has.

“Why can’t I feel pain?” He asked, still standing in disbelief and largely contained to himself. He reached out gingerly to touch his eye and checked for his ankle. I was shocked, too, but _buddy, we’re_ both _gonna die_ if I don’t finish shopping and wrap up as soon as possible before our scents and noise attract all the Zeeks from this part of Cambridge.

“I don’t know,” I said, zipping up my backpack and picking up my axe. Probably something to do with nerve damage, and the fundamental change of his body’s physiology. Yet he’s standing up and talking. I don’t know; my suite mate Pranjal was a pre-med but I'm more of an architect. (Even if I had, I doubt I would know the answers to our questions.)

“Why did you bite me?”

I scowled. “I didn’t want to. I panicked. It tasted disgusting.”

“That’s what she said.” _Oh, he’s a human guy alright._

I huffed, annoyed. Is that _funny_? Does he think this is _funny_? We’re standing in the middle of a run-down grocery store after a near-death (or post-death, for him?) encounter and he’s making jokes?

“I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to say. I thought I was dead.”

“You were.”

“I remember the apocalypse, and Gilead. I was sent out to scout for more food--”

“--How did you end up in this side of Charles (River) then?”

“...I wanted to see if my best friends were alive. I also needed to find Will.”

I signed. I don't know who this Will guy is, but he must have meant a lot to this guy. I looked at the wad of cloth that I picked up. I wanted to stuff it in his mouth, just to make sure, but I see the genuine fear in his eye and the concern in his voice. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

I ignored the question. “What is your name?”

“Nico.”

“Ok, Nearly Eyeless Nick. I’m Annabeth, nice to meet you.”

\--

We kept quiet, and I walked briskly with Nico shuffling behind me. I made him grab a few more cans of food, wrapped it securely in the wad of cloth I had, and had him carried it. I don’t know if he eats food or feels the brittle cold around us, but he didn’t say anything.

We walked back along Mass Ave, cut through HLS, and finally made it back to the Yard. I didn’t say anything, but I scanned around for Zombies. None. Not surprising - most of them are so decayed they can no longer travel, and I’ve done a lot of work clearing out this area during the past two years. I skillfully navigated around the barbed wires I have set up, and climbed past the gate across the Science Center, axe in hand and backpack on my shoulders.

Nico looked at me. I stared back at him. This was a true dexterity test. I fully recognize that his body might still be stiff, but I had no intention of helping. Distrust kept me alive, and though I desperately wanted him to be a human again, I cannot be sure.

He said nothing. He handed me the package of food through the gates, then hoisted himself up. He then jumped down, his fall cushioned by the snow. I nodded.

“This is not Gilead.” He said.

“Of course not. This is where I live. We’ll die before we ever reach Gilead. It’s not safe. And people in Gilead don’t like me.” I marched towards the library and he followed.

On the steps, I realized how much he stank. I pointed to the snow, “wash up. I don’t want this stench in my space. I’ll wait for you right inside the door. Knock before you come in, I don’t want you tripping the wire and have your head cut off.”

_Lord give me strength._

\--

By the entrance of my school’s library, there is a Gutenberg Bible in a glass display case. One out of however many copies left in the world. The staff here used to flip a page of the Bible every day (or some pretentious poetic bullshit like that) but it’s been on the same page for years.

I got bored one day and painted on the case: _Break Glass in case of EMERGENCY._ It was a joke, but I sighed and briefly contemplated actually breaking the case with the rock I placed next to the case nearly a year ago. I knew that I needed to go visit the Colony with Nico; even if it meant endangering myself and being possibly sentenced to an eternity of biting Zombies. I also knew that I needed to bring the Bible as a token of goodwill, Gilead won’t let me in (and then, leave) that easily.

Just when I squatted to grab the rock, I heard someone clear their throat. Ah, of course, my newly unzombified friend.

“Nice house you have here.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I said coldly. This is not _Warm Bodies_.

“How did you manage all of this?”

“Using my brain and making sure you only sleep when you’re absolutely safe.” I know I’m not the best at conversation, but I have been out of practice. In the Before, I was a really nice person. I would be offering this guy hot chocolate and my valued beef jerky and maybe even a movie - the ones on film that I can play without electricity - in the Stacks, but I wasn’t in the mood. It’s hard to be in the mood when you can die any day. I still don’t know if I had just introduced Death in my door.

I took him down to my living space in the basement, and settled him in a study far away from my own bedroom. Handed him some water, food, warm clothes. Even a sleeping mask that I modified right then and there into an eye patch.

“Why are you doing all of this for me?”

“Because you died saving your friends. And now we have to save the world.” I bit my lip, still thinking that this is all a big mistake. Nico can see my unease, but he wasn’t in a position to question me. I continued harshly, “rest up - don’t wander out of your room at night because I’m putting spikes and traps right outside your door in case you try to bite me. You can piss in this empty bottle if you need it. Tomorrow, we are going to set the course for Gilead.”

I felt like a child even saying the phrase “save the world.” It’s probably just bullshit; hope is a cruel thing to have in this world. But I don’t know how else to act. I also knew he wanted to speak, but I’m so goddamn tired. Drained. I never really stopped feeling that way, but I needed some time to think by myself. I knew that emotional people do irrational things - that’s something I learned earlier on. I didn’t have to worry about it in over a year, but people can be (are) evil, and they can kill, too. Before it was man vs. nature, our society was man vs. man for the majority of conflicts we had to face. I need to make up an excuse and say that something else cured Nico, but also be able to participate to try to utilize whatever I had to help produce a cure.

As I swished Listerine around my mouth, I strategized. I needed to reach my biology professor, and he ought to help me. I spat out the mouthwash and grabbed my current journal out to write about today. I just had to remember to put the helmet back on before I sleep.

You know, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like zombie aus are so 2013 but like, who's stopping me? (my laziness, that's who)  
> hope you guys enjoyed -- if you did, please drop a comment or a kudo (or both!!) thanks :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Part III**

There’s something poetic about sleeping in candlelight every day, but the novelty has long worn off on me. In the time Before, it had been drilled into our heads that _no matter what, you must NOT light up candles in your dorm room_ to avoid fire hazards. I had always respected that rule, even when the apocalypse first started. Accidentally burning down Widener Library would be a true tragedy, one akin to the destruction of Alexander the Great’s library.

But times have changed. Ever since Luke's stunt that led to almost everyone dying (or leaving), I had to survive by myself. I would love to utilize the top floor’s natural sunlight but that incident scarred me. It’s winter (and heat travels up), but I still remained in the basement. It helps me feel grounded, and the Stacks is a labyrinth that no one can easily navigate but me. Sometimes I still find stacks of post-it notes that students used to cover motion-sensing lights when they wanted to have some fun.

Those were the days.

After brushing my teeth-- _I still have standards_ \--and changing into some lighter clothes, I took my gear with me to the study next to my “bedroom” and biked. Didn’t feel like tread milling today.

Looking at the rows of empty equipment, I felt a little sad. It rarely bothered me anymore, but Nico’s existence reminded me of the people I had in the past. Some time ago, we had a little community going on here in Widener; a group of us from the College was not agreeable with Gilead and stayed here. I was surprised that they let us at first, but the social status that some of us (and our families) once held in the Before meant something still when the end of the world first went down. They made an exception and decided to not bother us with everything going on, since they more or less saw us as kids who didn’t value their own lives enough to integrate with the official QZ group. They didn’t have the energy to argue or deal with us either. We also made it clear that coming for us was dangerous; streets, the Yard, HLS, the Square, and paths around the Library were all rigged.

Retrospectively, maybe we should have followed what the remaining law school kids did and followed them to Gilead. Some of them kept their heads down and now hold various leadership positions within the Council, living a relatively comfortable life from what I last heard. This world is a little more of a meritocracy, but the social structures had not changed much. Labor is more valued, but the ones with predisposed confidence and entitlement still come out ahead in any communities with a societal hierarchy. Some of the kids who were once here (and at MIT) that adapted to Gilead early even got to work in the Lab at East Boston now. If anyone could find a cure, it’d probably be them.

The really rich kids, the ones who left Canada Goose jackets and the few luxurious rugs we found in the dorms and now line the floors with, all were long gone. Their parents probably flew them to various bunkers and private islands at the first notice of things going seriously wrong -- before air travel became completely unsupported after New York City’s fall. That thought unsettles me: it's best not to think about what may have happened to my father and his family.

I told myself that I chose to be here, but really, it was this or Gilead. I didn’t have rich parents or ones that particularly cared about me. The community was happy at first. The initial setup at the gym had taken a long time, but we had working generators that take in energy from the treadmills and bikes (though the input was pretty minuscule), as well as the solar panels we had in the roof. We had a mini-greenhouse going on by the skylights once upon a time too, but that only exists in my memory now. We were more or less self-sufficient, and we had a great system going on. Now, It’s impossible for me to maintain everything by myself.

My mind started to wander to the thoughts of my old friends, Silena, Clarisse, Charlie, Michael, Lee, and so many others. All dead, because Luke and Ethan bit off more than they could chew. Stupid. I shook my head again. It's been so long, but when you're alone, the only things you could think of were the last interactions you've had with others.

Finished with my routine, I put on my gear and sharpened my axe. I also looked for a gun. Guns aren’t great because it attracts anything and everything within a half-mile radius (even with a suppressor), but I ought to carry one. Just in case.

After getting mostly ready, I deactivated the battery-operated tripwire and the pulley-net system in front of Nick’s door. I swung it open with a scowl. It wasn’t that I was unhappy, I just have a resting bitch face.

“Morning,” Nico said, meekly, staring at me. He was just sitting on the bed, motionless.

“Morning,” I replied, throwing him a shirt, a sweater (the H sweaters that _The Harvard Shop_ pushed us to buy were finally good for _something_ ), and jeans I found from the old pile of men’s clothing. Clothes that the boys used to wear around camp; clothes that I should have gotten rid of but too sentimental for me to actually do so. I kept telling myself that I should keep it in case I needed to use them as a rag or something.

“It’s a Doctor Who _Silence in the Library_ shirt, is this some kind of a joke?” Nico said, frowning at it.

“No,” I said, curtly. I hadn’t realized I had given him one of Luke's old shirts.

“Okay,” Nico said, unsure what to say.

I stared at him impatiently, and though he was uneasy, he took off his old, ratty shirt. I wasn’t about to turn my back just in case, though I was not in the business of staring at his bare torso anyways. But I couldn’t help but notice the gray, lifeless, denatured skin that was underneath his clothes. I did my best to be polite and not gag at the faint stench I still smell despite him cleaning himself already yesterday.

“You can go into that door,” I painted at a door three yards down from his, “to find a nice jacket and a pair of boots that fit you. I don’t trust you to give you a weapon yet, but I’m not going to let you die of cold or something. Take one of the supply bags with you from the room to the left of it and then wait for me here; I need to get some makeup for you and a Bible. Don’t try to wander off, you will get hurt.”

\---

After getting what I needed, I grabbed a new copy of the map (out of the thousand copies we grabbed from the abandoned Hahvahd Tour offices) of Boston and plotted a route. Once upon a time, I much preferred to just take Mt. Auburn down because it cuts through MIT, where I know I can get sanctuary in the Dome just in case (our two groups pledged safety and resources for each other; that’s actually where we got help to set up the generators), but I had no contact with them in months. That road also leads us down directly to Back Bay, and god knows how infested that area is these days. Going down Broadway and crossing Charles through Longfellow seems to be a better bet, though there certainly will be some particularly trigger-happy soldiers there. I would just have to take extra care.

Grabbing two neon-purple tanks and a few safety pins and stuffing them into my pack, I turned to Nico. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” As he followed me out, I flicked on all the security measures behind me. At the start of it all, zombies were the biggest threat. Now, other humans are. I wouldn’t want someone to take over my stronghold when I was away, though groups rarely come across this area, especially in the Winter.

We walked in silence across the Yard until we reached Canaday. Nico was smart enough to follow my exact steps to avoid the land mines. Climbing over the gate again, I scanned for trouble before continuing into the white vastness of the streets.

I’m on edge.

I rarely venture past Cambridge Public Library because the street is filled with houses further down Broadway. And houses these days may be filled with zombies that could potentially still be preserved well enough to attack. I would hate to have to clean out a house if we had to stop. It’s too bad that the weather had been so unstable these past few years; to some sense, maybe _Z.coli_ had been a blessing to the Earth.

We continued down the street, one block at a time. It should not be more than a 1.5-hour walk, but everything takes longer in the snow, ice, zombies, and the occasional by passer.

The first three should not be a problem, but I am more nervous about who I could meet down here as we edged more towards Gilead. It is lawless outside of Gilead, and god knows who is out there these days. I am also more nervous about what would happen to Nico and me when we get to Gilead. I’m not sure what I am expecting, and I’m doing this because I feel like I am doing the Right Thing. Then, why am I feeling so much apprehension? Why do I feel like I am walking us to our deaths? Why didn’t I switch on the electric fence by the gates, when I expected to be back by the afternoon--

“So, how is it like living outside of Gilead?” Nico asked, and I jumped a little, hand inching towards the knife on my belt.

I relaxed once I realized that it was just him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He muttered, backing from me a little.

“I hadn’t talked to anyone in a long time,” I said, as if that explains all of why I am now incompetent to hold a conversation.

“Okay.”

We kept walking in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear, percy will show up soon if i continue this


End file.
